


I don't need your help

by Vedettal



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chuck Lives, Established Relationship, Father/Son Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2185179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vedettal/pseuds/Vedettal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck survives. Herc is relieved. He tries his best to help his boy, but Chuck doesn't want it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I don't need your help

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta. Any and all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Chuck lives because that's exactly what happened, and you can't tell me otherwise.
> 
> This turned out to be a lot more story than I anticipated, which happens to all writing I ever do. Oh well. Enjoy!

Herc had cried. A lot.

Yeah, it wasn't manly and even though his boy teased him about it, Herc didn't fucking care. His pride and calm demeanor ceased when he watch the Jaeger blinked out of existence on the holograph screens. He couldn't show it, of course. He still had a job to do.

So, when he got news of the third escape pod, Herc had broken down.

Chuck had survived.

His boy had somehow managed to escape the main blast of the explosion. Chuck doesn't remember how, and Herc doesn't question it. Doesn't inquire how the boy managed to do the impossible. Or why there was only one escape pod from Striker Eureka.

Herc doesn't ask, because he doesn't really care.

His son was alive and breathing, and that was all Herc needed to know.

He had rushed to the hospital and squeezed the boy into his arms. Herc was still crying then, and Chuck had laughed at him about it, calling him soft and too sensitive. Herc only hugged the boy tighter, drenching Chuck's hair in tears of relief and joy. The nurses had to peel Herc off, cutting short the emotional reunion much to Herc's protest and Chuck's amusement, before wheeling Chuck off to hospitalization.

Herc hadn't slept much.

There were some major injuries on Chuck's body. Most were broken bones and the exposure after effects of the detonation. None of them were permanent, and Chuck would recovered normally, the doctors told Herc. It would take some time but Chuck will be back to the way he was before in no time.

They had told the truth for the most part.

Chuck was released from the hospital after some weeks. The doctors had prescribed one too many medication for Herc's liking, and assigned him a list of tasks and labors Chuck should avoid until he was fully recovered. Along with a list of phone numbers of specialist and therapists. In case Chuck needed some "extra" help, the doctors explained. Herc wanted to give a few retorts but shoved the piece of paper into his back pocket and drove his boy home.

The doctors had lied. What they interpreted as no time was a lifetime to Herc.

Chuck was recovering, true, but not quick enough to Herc's reassurance. It was difficult enough to watch his boy struggle with simple task such as lifting and carrying heavy objects, but, also, whenever Herc would offer his assistance, Chuck would deny it and give snark retorts back. Chuck would then always get a look on his face, a look of depression and self-loathing.

A look Herc hated.

"I'm not helpless, you know," Chuck would often say.

"I know," Herc would always respond back with.

Herc tried his best not to offend the boy, but he found it extremely difficult. After all, it was a parent's nature to protect and help their child, wasn't it? It certainly was Herc's. Oftentimes against Chuck's wishes.

It was hard, Herc admitted, to not treat Chuck any differently. To not show the boy any pity or sympathy. Especially, since Chuck decided to sleep in Herc's bed now. It took Herc some probing but he found out it was because Chuck was scared. His boy didn't want to be alone. Herc found out that while Chuck was in Jaeger, down at the pits of the Pacific Ocean, fear had creep its way into Chuck's thoughts. Fear of dying alone, his body disintegrating into a million pieces, scattered across the sea for no one to find. Genuine fear for his life, a life Chuck had hoped he would live to be a hundred to witness.

Chuck didn't regret his decision of descending into The Breach, and he would have done it again in a heartbeat. Chuck would have gladly given up for his life for the sake of humanity. Chuck told Herc so.

Chuck had also said that even though he would have done all those things, he wouldn't have minded doing so and living in the end.

Herc held back the stream of tears he felt, screaming and clawing its way into his eyes, as he held Chuck close to his chest that night. Herc remained still, except for his fingers, which were stroking the light of Chuck's hair, and listened as Chuck relayed his last fear into Herc's ear.

Chuck's final and worst fear.

The fear of being without his father.

"The worst part wasn't the dying," Chuck said. "That's easy. The worst part was knowing I wouldn't see you again. That I wouldn't see your face before the explosion blew up my brains. That I wouldn't hear your voice, calling me an ass one last time." They both shared a chuckle, Herc sniffing back the emotions in his eyes, and Chuck settling closer to Herc's body. "I don't want to feel that ever again. Okay?"

Chuck had never looked more vulnerable and weak than he did in that moment.

"Okay," Herc promised his son.

So, when Herc had tried to make love to his son one night and Chuck had stopped them in the middle, Herc was slightly confused.

Chuck had pushed himself upward with his elbows, gritting his teeth together and staring Herc down with frustrated eyes. "Oi, what's the problem, old man?"

"What problem?"

Chuck poked him in the chest. "Why are so gentle?"

"I don't want to-"

Herc didn't finish that sentence, knowing too well Chuck would not like the answer.

"Either fuck me right, or don't fuck me at all," Chuck told him, and when Herc didn't answer, the boy sighed and rolled away. Herc watched as Chuck grabbed a pair of pajamas and strutted out of the bedroom.

Herc closed his eyes and listened as Chuck walked downstairs and into the kitchen. Chuck returned and Herc heard the television start, white noises that escaped him. Herc fell asleep, feeling guilt and self-hatred. Chuck had that same look on his face he had whenever Herc offered him help. Herc still hated that look.

He woke to Chuck sleeping across from him, back turned and distance as far as possible.

The next few days after that were hell. Chuck refused any more medication, claiming he didn't need them anymore, that he was fully healed. The boy would spend most of his time in their home gym, lifting as much weight as he could carry and running miles after miles on the treadmill. It didn't matter how much Herc told him to slow down, Chuck would ignore him and apply more weight.

Chuck lied. He was not fully healed. Herc found that out when he found Chuck collapsed on the gym floor, clutching his ribs, hissing out as Herc applied pressure to them. Chuck was shaking, but when Herc lifted him up, the boy pushed Herc away, and stormed out the door. _  
_

"I don't need your help!" Chuck had shouted.

Herc couldn't help but sigh.

Their dinners weren't so great, either. Herc cooked, and Chuck let him without complaint. The younger Hansen didn't know how to. At dinner, they would talk, small simple chatter. A joke and laugh or two every once and a while. As awkward and strained as it was, Herc couldn't help but feel pity. 

Chuck didn't want any of it.

"I can do it myself," Chuck had said when Herc offered to wash his dishes.

Chuck didn't let Herc do anything for him, except cook, and even than, Chuck had sometimes ordered take-in. Chuck would drive himself to the doctor checkups, oftentimes not telling Herc when the next one was. His boy wouldn't even tell him what the doctors had said.

"Getting better," Chuck always answered, "nothing new."

His boy had even gotten a menial job at some office supply company. From what Herc had gathered from the constant bruising on Chuck's skin, the job entailed heavy physical labor. Herc had immediately disapproved, but Chuck did not care of it. His boy was refusing for Herc to support him anymore. Something about carrying his own weight.

Herc was getting tired of his son's attitude, and he finally snapped one night. Chuck had come home from work, still bruised from the previous' week job, when the boy foolishly decided to move the couch for some god-forsaken reason. Chuck slipped, losing his balance, and dropping to the ground. When Herc moved to help him, Chuck had swatted his hand away and mumbled something incoherent.

Herc lost his patience.

He grabbed Chuck by the arm, hauling his boy back to face him.

"Oi, what is wrong with you?"

Chuck gave him a sour look.

"Nothing."

"Don't fucking lie to me, boy!"

Chuck moved his gaze down to Herc's grip on his arm, then, back to Herc's eyes. He gritted his teeth together, spitting out his words.

"Nothing! Nothing is wrong with me! Don't you see that?" When Herc didn't answer, Chuck continued. "Nothing is fucking wrong with me. I'm not some fragile, broken toy, dad. I don't need you watch me every minute, thinking I'm going to faint or go into a coma any second. I don't want your fucking help every time you think I can't handle something, because I can. I'm not paralyzed, and even if I was, I wouldn't want your help."

Herc shook his head, breathing in his son's words. "What do you want, than?"

"I want you to stop worrying. I want you to stop thinking I can't take care of myself. I want you to stop acting like everything's changed. Because it hasn't. I don't want any special treatment. I just want normal."

_Normal._

Herc wonders about that. Normal was Kaiju attacks and Jaeger pilots and the end of the world hanging on a thread. What was normal now?

"Normal," Chuck answered for him, "is us fighting and arguing. Normal is you lecturing me, and me, ignoring you. Normal is us sparring with each other. Boxing matches and shooting ranges. Normal is you cooking, and me criticizing your every dish, but really I wouldn't want anyone else's. Normal is us loving right. Normal is us fucking right. Not that gentle bullshit crap."

"Chuck..."

"Normal is me taking what I want."

Chuck pressed his warm lips into Herc's. They clashed teeth and tongue, a frenzy of control and passion. Herc lost himself in the kiss. It had been a while since they shared a kiss like this. It reminded Herc of the first time he and Chuck kissed. The boy had no idea what he was doing, but Herc had loved it anyways. Herc had taught it all to him.

Now, Chuck was using that knowledge. Tongue and teeth hitting all the right places.

Herc had pushed Chuck back, slamming his back into the wall. Chuck gasped out a soft groan. Herc froze.

"You okay?"

"Stop asking that," Chuck replied, stealing another quick kiss, "and fuck me."

Herc kissed him again, biting down on Chuck's bottom lip until he tasted cooper. Chuck moaned out a filthy noise, and Herc growled. They had barely made it to the bedroom when Herc fumbled his belt off, tossing his pants aside. He ripped Chuck's not quick enough.

Herc had given enough time for Chuck to position on all fours, and him to lube up the length of his cock before he thrust into Chuck's heat, hard and quick. Chuck gasped.

"Like that?" Herc asked.

Chuck whimpered, and Herc thrust into him again.

There was nothing gentle in Herc's action anymore.

They finished, sprawled out in one another's arm. Sweat and come coated the thick of their hairs. Both Herc and Chuck were bruised and heaving large lungfuls. Smiles and contentment etched into their faces.

They stayed like that, spooning for half an hour before Herc stood up and motion to the bathroom.

"Come on, time to clean up."

Chuck grunted.

"I can clean myself, I don't need your help."

"Good, then you can help me."

Chuck smirked and followed his father.

**Author's Note:**

> I might write just smut of these two, someday. Maybe


End file.
